


Let's Dance

by ConstantlyTiredReader



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cheesy, Comfort, Dancing, Established Relationship, Fluff, How Do I Tag, My First Fanfic, One Shot, Reader-Insert, reader has no specified gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyTiredReader/pseuds/ConstantlyTiredReader
Summary: You’re in a not so great mood and Sans wants to help make it better, even if he isn’t feeling the most certain about your methods.





	Let's Dance

“something’s up.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s the sky or the ceiling,” you groan. Don’t get it wrong, you love Sans and his jokes, but there’s a limit. And that one, which you’ve already heard at least thirty times too many this week alone, has pushed the limit.

“i mean, that too, but i’m serious right now.”

You look up from your book to the concerned eye sockets of your boyfriend. “What is it?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “not me. _you_. you’ve been staring at the same page for over fifteen minutes. it’s not even heavy reading.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head up to see his living room clock, then back down at your page number. Sure enough, he’s right. Sans told you he was going to Grillby’s to pick up something for dinner, and based on the bag of food on the table, he made it back before you finished your page. Even with his shortcuts, you should have made some progress by now. Heck, you should have finished the chapter by now.

“Sorry, my head must not really be in it today. Thanks for getting dinner.” You scooch over on the couch, placing your book out of the way on the side table. Sans doesn’t take advantage of the extra space, instead cuddling close to you. Both of you start digging in, allowing the savoury taste of Grillby’s food wash away the exhaustion of the day. Literally: there are some definite advantages to partaking in monster food. Although, at Sans’ insistence - which incidentally comes from Papyrus’ insistence that his older brother ‘TAKE PROPER CARE OF HIS DATE MATE’ - you also eat a small salad. Since monster food rarely provides the nutrients humans need, he’s been pretty careful in making sure that you get regular food with every meal, even if you can’t convince him to eat it himself (unless said ‘regular food’ is something that can still be considered as unhealthy and therefore worthy of your precious gremlin’s attention, of course).

Despite all this, you can’t help but admit to yourself that Sans’ observation of something being wrong with you might be correct. You have no idea why; today was a pretty good day as far as work goes, and you aren’t feeling stressed. There’s just this **heaviness** today that you can’t explain. An unreasonable sadness.

Melancholy. That’s the word.

A pair of cool, rough phalanges run down your cheek to your chin, bringing you back to the moment. “- babe?”

“Huh?”

“you stopped eating,” Sans explains, his voice slightly higher pitched than normal. Worried. “you sure you’re okay?”

Snuggling your head onto his shoulder, you take a deep breath. The urge to just brush it off as nothing is strong. After all, it’s not like you can explain what the problem is when you don’t know the cause yourself. As it is, your silence seems to be answer enough for your boyfriend, as he pulls you onto his lap, circling his arms around you in a gesture that you know is meant to protect you from whatever is wrong. You allow yourself to melt into his body, noticing that he’s even summoned some of his ecto-flesh so that you don’t just fall directly into poky bones. He gently pets your hair, a simple habit that tends to calm both of you down. It helps a bit, so you just allow yourself to rest in silence.

…

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind.

“Sans?”

“mhm,” he whispers into your ear, nuzzling you gently.

“Let’s dance.”

…

“what?”

“Let’s dance,” you repeat, carefully extracting yourself from his limbs to stand up, offering your hand to help him in return.

“why?”

“Dance is scientifically proven to help improve the mood. I’m apparently not in a great one. Dancing is better with two people, so let’s dance.”

Hesitantly, Sans takes your hand, easing his way off the couch. “fine, but i hope you’re ready for your toes to be stepped on. i’m not what you’d call graceful.”

“Nonsense,” you giggle slightly, “I’ve seen how you can move. From all the times you’ve managed to sneak up to startle me, I can say with confidence that you can be awfully light on your feet when you want to be.” You jab an elbow at his ecto-gut and he snickers. You’ll get payback for this year’s April Fools Extravaganza some day, just not today. “Besides, there’s no way you could be worse than my prom date. Alex was a nice kid, but he should never be let within a square mile of a dance floor.”

“why does the name alex sound familiar?”

As you grab your phone to play some music, you shrug. “Did I tell you about the time I broke three of my toes but didn’t go to the hospital for over a week because I didn’t think it was a big deal?”

“that was him?!”

“Uh huh. In retrospect, it’s actually pretty impressive that he was able to do so much damage considering the shoes I was wearing.”

Ignoring the shocked sputtering of your boyfriend, you finally choose a song. Just before you press play, you move close to Sans, wrapping his arms around your waist before you clasp yours around his shoulders. Out of everyone you’ve ever slow danced with, Sans is probably the most convenient height-wise for this hold. It allows a certain closeness that you favour, and his relatively short stature makes it so that your shoulders and arms won’t hurt from holding them up. You start to sway before you start the song, getting into the rhythm.

A few beats in, Sans freezes slack-jawed, both of you leaning to the side. You help adjust him to standing up straight so that you don’t topple over.

“babe?”

“Yeah Sans?”

“are we slow dancing to _love shack_?”

“Yup!” You exclaim, popping the ‘p’.

“...?”

Gently urging him back into the beat, you smile. “This song always brightens my mood, just like you.”

“if not, the sheer ridiculousness of this should,” he mutters, not even trying to hide an amused grin.

“You’ve got it, bone boy.”

For the next four and a half minutes, the two of you sway slowly to the loud B-52’s song around the living room. It isn’t the slightest bit elegant or graceful - in fact, the two of you probably look like a bunch of goofy idiots - but the upbeat music combined with the comforting touch already seems to be improving your mood. As you get going, you even start prompting him to execute more complex maneuvers, having him spin you around every once in a while. At the “bang bang” section, Sans even takes the initiative to dip you a few times, before picking you up with the help of his magic and twirling you around as the song ends.

“That’s the spirit,” you laugh breathlessly as he flings you back onto the couch, blue magic still wrapping your Soul. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit down and join you. He instead pulls his hood over his head and sinks his hands deep in his pockets. “What’s up?”

Sans gives you an all too familiar grin of wicked delight, and you immediately regret your phrasing. Before he can answer, you leap across to cover his mouth. However, you forgot one thing: Sans prides himself on his ability to talk without opening his mouth. “the sky and the ceiling.”

“And there goes the moment. Thanks. _Really_ appreciate it,” you say, laying on the sarcasm as thick as you possibly can. “But seriously, why are you still standing?”

“oh, i’m just gonna serenade my lover,” he smirks, grabbing your phone. You quirk a curious eyebrow at him, but he refuses to give anything away. “ya ready?”

“Sure?”

“way to sound excited babe.”

“I try,” you deadpan, earning a joking air-flick. “Now, c’mon my dude, serenade the socks off of me.”

“that’s more like it.” Sans gives you an over-the-top wink before jutting out his hip in a pose reminiscent of Mettaton. You try not to snort in amusement at your his antics. You fail.

You don’t even get through a measure of the opening instrumental before your jaw drops in shock. Surely, your ears are betraying you. Never would you have expected your boyfriend to choose such a song as a gesture of romance. In fact, you doubt that ever before in the history of humans or monster such a bold choice has been made. It’s simply indescribable. If it weren’t for the fact that he was using your phone for the soundtrack, you would record this historic moment. The song ends, and he looks at you in expectation.

“so, what’d you think?”

“Sans, dearest?”

“yeah?”

 

 

 

 

“Did you just freaking romantically rickroll me?!?!?!?!?!?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a fic. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to let me know if anything needs to be fixed.
> 
> [My Tumblr!](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/)


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